


sweet in your memory (sunflower, sunflower)

by dygonilly



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boo Seungkwan is a Good Friend, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Kindergarten Teacher Yoon Jeonghan, Lee Seokmin as a narrative device, Lovers to Exes to Lovers, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28576788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dygonilly/pseuds/dygonilly
Summary: In the end, it wasn’t so much about change as it was about revelation: Minghao pulled parts of Jeonghan out into the light, rubbed at his edges and painted them bright blue and called him summer, even when he felt cold. Even when he felt two feet tall, Minghao looked up to him.How things change. How things stay the same.(or, Jeonghan and Minghao break up two months before their lease ends and neither of them move out)
Relationships: Xu Ming Hao | The8/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63
Collections: Seventeen Rare Pair Fest: 2 Rare 2 Pair





	sweet in your memory (sunflower, sunflower)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SVTRarePairFest2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SVTRarePairFest2) collection. 



> **Prompt:**   
>  _Live-in boyfriends break up and navigate the fallout. (No one has the money to move out halfway through the lease, we make this work as heartbroken distant roommates Or Else)_
> 
> \- This will be split into 3 parts to both give justice to the story I have outlined, and to save my sanity. The E rating kicks in after this part. 
> 
> \- Title from _Sunflower, Vol. 6_ by Harry Styles and Jeonghan calling Minghao 'sunflower' on tape :/
> 
> \- Chapter title from _Transatlanticism_ by Death Cab For Cutie
> 
> \- Here is a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4PSx3Vg7Rje8PXN3Nb5FbD?si=xz9jPcxRRgOHKpuYz-jEBA)

_You have played,_  
_(I think)_  
_And broke the toys you were fondest of,_  
_And are a little tired now;_  
_Tired of things that break, and —_  
_Just tired._  
_So am I._

_-_ e.e. cummings

🌻

It takes Jeonghan less than twenty seconds to recount how his two-year relationship ended. 

It’s kind of depressing. He even tries to embellish the start of the story to make himself look better, but even then he finds there isn’t much to say. We had a fight over something stupid, it escalated, we broke up. No, I didn’t see it coming. Yes, I’ll be fine. 

Seungkwan listens to him speak with his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pursed, humming every few seconds. He’s wearing the same over-attentive expression he uses on the students and it’s making Jeonghan feel itchy. He can’t wait for this to be over. He doesn’t even want to gossip about it—it’s not as fun when he’s the butt of the joke.

“So that’s it, I guess,” he says, aiming for nonchalant, like he didn’t cry while he was stuck in traffic this morning. The cars were at a stand still for almost ten minutes, which means someone definitely saw him dramatically hitting the steering wheel as his face screwed up with the tears he couldn’t cry at home.

“Wow.” Seungkwan takes a huge sip from his thermos. “Hyung… I never expected this.”

Jeonghan squints at him. “Really? Because it kind of looks like you did.”

“Okay I did,” Seungkwan says in a rush, like it was hurting him to keep his opinion to himself. “But surely you felt it? I mean, it was getting kind of obvious.”

Jeonghan masks his surprise with a short laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Myungho-hyung have been acting really different for the past month.” 

The playground is a mess of screams and laughter. The noise mixes with the memory of raised voices and a too-quiet apartment in the hours that followed. 

Jeonghan keeps his eyes on the jungle-gym when he asks, “Different how?”

Luckily, Seungkwan’s favourite thing in the world after a cup of coffee is the open invitation to talk about his opinions, and right now he has both. 

He leans in on the bench, voice dropping. “Do you remember, when you got together, we had to implement a no-touching-at-the-table policy because you two were so f—” Misuk trots past with a leaf in her hand like it’s an airplane. They both smile encouragingly at her and Seungkwan waits until she’s out of earshot before continuing: “So fucking touchy. All the time. Hands everywhere.” He takes a serious sip of coffee. “So, imagine my surprise when I arrive at brunch on April twenty-second—”

“Very specific.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“And I see you both sitting with your hands above the table, hair and clothes in place, talking to the people around you. It was very suspicious.”

Jeonghan laughs incredulously. “That’s not suspicious! We live together, we’re not going to be all over each other all the time.”

“But you were,” Seungkwan says emphatically. “That’s the point, hyung. Every time I looked at you two there was always something… your head on his shoulder, his hand in your lap. Ever since you got together. And then it just—” He clicks his fingers. “I didn’t want to say anything in case there was something wrong.”

“Very noble of you,” Jeonghan says drily.

Seungkwan loses a bit of his edge. “All I’m saying is I’ve known Myungho for a long time, and when he stops touching people, it means something.”

“He already broke up with me, Seungkwan, you don’t need to point out the failings of our relationship.” Jeonghan stands up, irritated.

“Hyung—”

“Can you watch them for the last ten minutes?”

Seungkwan purses his lips, but he nods. Jeonghan doesn’t say thank you before walking back inside. He’s afforded seven minutes of peace before one of the kids waddles in with something to show him. They’re supposed to stay outside during breaks, but Jeonghan doesn’t have the energy to be strict. Not today. He listens to Sooyoung’s nonsensical story about the snail she found with a tired but genuine smile.

🌻

The smell of chilli is strong enough to make Jeonghan cough when he walks into the apartment. He toes off his shoes and dumps his bag next to the couch before tentatively rounding the corner into the kitchen, arms crossed over his stomach.

Here’s the part of the story he didn’t mention:

Minghao isn’t moving out.

He’s cooking dinner with his airpods in, wearing a shirt that used to belong to Jeonghan. The washing machine is running and his yoga mat is still spread out in front of the couch. Domesticity coats the apartment like paint, dripping in layers, and only now is Jeonghan starting to smell its fumes—they burn his lungs, invade his senses like the chilli powder and the bitter longing he feels looking at the shape of Minghao’s back.

The lease ends in two months. It might be the worst idea either of them have ever had, but they don’t have any other options for the moment. Shared rent is already something they have to be careful about—Jeonghan teaches kindergarten and Minghao is on the lowest rung of his museum career—so neither of them are making enough to afford a place to themselves. Jeonghan threw the idea at Minghao’s feet like a last-ditch attempt to hold onto him for a little longer. He didn’t expect Minghao to pick it up, to consider it; to agree. Maybe it’s because both of them are too proud to ask their friends for help when they can find a solution themselves. Even if it’s a questionable one. 

So here they are, broken up and still living together. The apartment is small but it’s designed in a way that makes it possible to avoid each other if they want to, and Jeonghan wants to. It’s awkward. Too fresh. But at the same time, there remains a sick sort of thrill in being so close to Minghao. It lingers in his chest, his gut. The possibility of… something. 

There’s something to be said about keeping your distance from things that hurt you, but Jeonghan has always been stupidly fascinated with the time between sticking your finger into a candle-flame and feeling the sting.

Minghao clicks the stove off. He turns around to find a plate and startles at the sight of Jeonghan. He removes an airpod. “I’m almost done,” he says carefully, like Jeonghan is going to snap at him.

Jeonghan says, “It’s fine.”

Minghao’s hand emerges from the cupboard, two plates trapped between his fingers. He only seems to realise when Jeonghan’s eyes drop to them. “Ah. Habit,” he mutters, and puts one back. It clatters loudly as it slots into place. It’s almost a relief when he puts his airpod back in and turns back to the stove. 

Jeonghan considers saying something, but he can’t think of the right words so he just exhales tightly and retreats to the bedroom.

A combination of Minghao being self-sacrificing and constantly expecting Jeonghan to be bossier than he is meant that Jeonghan won custody of the only real bed in the apartment. Minghao has exiled himself to the exposed second level that he’s been using as a painting space since they moved in. It gets the nicest sun in the apartment because of the skylight. They used to spread themselves out on the carpet on Sunday mornings, teacups stacked on a tray to their right, Minghao’s head on a pillow and Jeonghan’s head on his stomach, his arm, tucked into his neck. They would chase the sunlight and each other’s mouths. Minghao always tasted like green tea. Jeonghan doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to have it again.

He closes the bedroom door behind himself and flops face down onto the unmade bed. He groans into the pillow, bunches it up under his chin and pouts at the wall. He put up a strong front for Seungkwan and the kids today, because he felt like he had to and both parties ask way too many questions, but here, in the quiet solitude of a bedroom he got so used to sharing… he just feels sad. Lonely, despite one of his best friends sitting somewhere on the other side of the wall. 

Nobody ever tells you that one of the hardest parts about a breakup is the mundane losses. The stupidly human things. Minghao has gone from his first conversation in KaTalk to his fourth; Jeonghan went grocery shopping yesterday and filled up half the basket with items before realising none of them were for him; the bedside table is devoid of books.

It’s only been three days, but he feels like a messy outline of himself, like the colouring-in activities he gives the kids: crayon smeared all over the page with no regard for the lines. The kind of drawing he’d call beautiful and be lying about it.

Eventually the extractor fan shuts off and the apartment plunges into quiet. Minghao’s footsteps are light but obvious on the stairs. A green light: _it’s safe now, you can come out._ Jeonghan screams into the pillow once more for effect, then he gets up and walks to the kitchen. He finds a plate of food covered in plastic waiting for him on the counter and does a double take. A week ago he would be taking two steps back and calling flatteries up to Minghao, meeting his smile over the bannister and walking upstairs to join him while he ate. _You take such good care of me Myungho_ , he would coo, and then he would return the favour with his body, his bruising mouth.

Now the sight only makes him angry. He doesn’t need charity, olive branches, extended metaphors, any of it. This isn’t his fault. He shouldn’t have to be forgiving. 

He removes the plastic, opens the bin with his foot, and loudly dumps the food inside. 

He makes sure to call the delivery place from the living room so that Minghao hears, then he goes back to the bedroom and pretends that being mean makes him feel better, and not at all hollow.

🌻

When Jeonghan met him, Minghao was just another name on a list of potential roommates given to him by the internet and Boo Seungkwan. His apartment at the time was small but well-located; the bedrooms were on opposite ends and the kitchen could have been better, but it worked well enough for Jeonghan’s half-assed meal rotation and his penchant for takeout. All he really wanted out of a roommate was somebody normal. It wasn’t a big ask, yet he’d already met three people off the list and none of them sparked any kind of joy. 

He would never admit it out loud, but Joshua Hong was a hard act to follow. 

They’d lived together for almost three years and just when Jeonghan had carved a safe little groove for himself, Joshua had selfishly found himself a boyfriend. Granted, Seungcheol was just as fun to tease, and it had been nice having him around because he was kind and pretty and made Jeonghan food, but after six months of third wheeling they broke the news—all nervous and serious like Jeonghan was their only child and they were getting a divorce.

“What will I do now?” Jeonghan had moaned, cheek squished against the table and Joshua petting his hair.

“Find another roommate,” Joshua said simply. Everything sounded simple and easy when he said it. “As long as you don’t try to poison them on their birthday, I’m sure it'll go well.”

Jeonghan averted his eyes. “I didn’t do that.”

“You knew I had a nut allergy!”

“I thought you were trying to be trendy.”

Seungcheol was a fit of giggles across the table and Joshua looked pained but fond, as he often did around Jeonghan. He said, “God be with whoever moves in with you, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Minghao arrived exactly when he said he would. He knocked quietly, bowed when he said hello, and arranged his shoes into a neat line after he took them off. His hair was black, long around his nape and over his eyes, and he stood tall and straight like he was proving a point. It made him look sharp; at odds with the soft tone of his voice.

Jeonghan gave him the tour in under a minute, and then they were back at the entrance. He sized Minghao up, not bothering to be subtle. “You’re Seungkwan’s friend, right?”

Minghao nodded. 

“Do you smoke? Have parties during the week?”

Minghao shook his head.

“And you like what you see?”

Minghao’s mouth twitched at the corner. “Are you talking about the apartment?” he asked. 

Jeonghan laughed, taken off guard; impressed. “Yes.”

Minghao nodded. “I really like it.”

“Well then, the room is yours. Seungkwannie is a good judge of character. He’s like a little guard dog, he can sniff out the weirdos.”

“So I passed the test?”

“The first of many,” Jeonghan said, half joking, and Minghao giggled. It was short, bright and under his breath, but it changed his whole demeanour, like the sun rising over a field, blue grass turning gold. Jeonghan was transfixed.

Attraction was a curious thing. All of a sudden, Minghao’s presence in the apartment was earth-shattering. All of a sudden, Minghao went from being a stranger to something Jeonghan wanted to keep, something he wanted to know and explore and poke at until it spat at him. 

He should have chosen someone else, kept Minghao’s number for a late night call or a mid-morning suggestion of coffee. Maybe it would have worked out if he did that. Maybe they’d last longer than they did. But he didn’t. Instead, he did what he always does, and jumped in headfirst and cursed the consequences to come later. 

And they always do.

🌻

Seungkwan calls at ten o’clock on Saturday and Jeonghan doesn’t think much of it before answering, padding into the kitchen to make coffee after he hears the shower running. 

“What do you need?” he asks, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“Better friends,” Seungkwan says. The sound of traffic chases his words. “Good morning, hyung. I’m one minute away from your building. I hope you’re dressed because I—”

Jeonghan fumbles his phone, saving it just before it hits the tiles. Seungkwan is still speaking when he brings it back to his ear. “You’re what?” 

“Do you ever listen? Maybe I really do need to trade you in for Shua-hyung.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t.” The buzzer rings out through the apartment. “Hi! Let me in.”

“I can’t,” Jeonghan says in a panic. “I’m naked.”

“Like that’s stopped you before. Come on.” The buzzer rings again. And again. Jeonghan smacks his head against the refrigerator. Considering how often Seungkwan invites himself over, it’s surprising that it took this long, but he’s been reading a lot of self-help books lately. Maybe one of them was about healthy boundaries. Jeonghan hopes the next one teaches him how to give notice before visiting other peoples’ homes.

“Okay, fine,” he says. “Fine. Give me a second.”

Seungkwan makes a kissing sound and hangs up. The shower is still running, but Minghao has already been in there for a few minutes and he’s not one to stay in the bathroom for any longer than he needs to. There’s no way Seungkwan won’t see him. If Jeonghan gets dressed at lightning speed he can just meet Seungkwan in the hallway, but then Seungkwan will call him cagey and suspicious, which isn’t untrue, but he was really looking forward to not facing the consequences of his stupid decisions for a little while longer. 

He walks to the buzzer like a man walking to the gallows and leans all his weight on his fingertip to unlock the main entrance.

Seungkwan is out of breath when he opens the door. 

“Are you ill?” Jeonghan asks, letting him inside.

“No, I jogged up. Good metabolism boost.” He looks shrewdly around the apartment. “Wow. It’s really clean.” Jeonghan belatedly notices that the shower has stopped and frantically starts herding Seungkwan into his bedroom. 

“What are you doing?” Seungkwan yelps. 

Jeonghan closes the door behind him half a second before the bathroom door opens. Minghao’s footsteps follow like ghosts. 

Seungkwan rounds on him with wide eyes. “Do you have a guest?” he whisper-shouts.

“No,” Jeonghan says confidently. It’s not a lie, but it’s not good enough, and Seungkwan isn’t nearly as stupid as Jeonghan wishes he were. 

His eyes catch on the open wardrobe. “Why is all his stuff still here?” He moves in a tight circle, taking in evidence like a daylight television detective. Finally, he steeples his fingers against his mouth and says, “Yoon Jeonghan. Please tell me that he is not in this apartment right now.”

Jeonghan produces an uncomfortable set of jazz hands. “Surprise?” Seungkwan puffs up the way he does before he’s about to yell and Jeonghan rushes at him with flailing hands. “Don’t freak out. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” Seungkwan hisses. “Hyung, what—I thought you broke up! I was giving you space to like, cry in your sweatpants and eat ice-cream, not… not invite him over to have sex!”

Jeonghan blinks. “That’s not why he’s here.” 

“Then why…” Seungkwan’s eyes dart around the room, lingering on Minghao’s belongings, the lack of boxes and movement. “Oh, hyung.”

“Ugh see, this is why I didn’t tell you.”

“What, because I’d show you basic human empathy?”

“Because you’d feel obligated to help,” Jeonghan bites. “It’s fine. It’s only temporary and we are dealing with it like adults.”

“Really?” Seungkwan says, arms crossed. “So you had a real conversation about it?” Jeonghan opens his mouth but Seungkwan cuts him off with a finger in the air. “A single yes or no question does not count as a conversation.”

Jeonghan’s mouth snaps shut. 

Seungkwan clasps his hands together in prayer and looks at the ceiling. “Lord, how did two of my most emotionally intelligent friends end up in such an ugly vortex of miscommunication?”

“Oh, you’re religious now. Great.”

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Shua-hyung, maybe some of the magic rubbed off.”

“That’s not…” Jeonghan laughs, and it quickly turns into a groan that sounds dangerously like a prelude to tears. Seungkwan sighs and pulls him into a hug, chin hooked over his shoulder, bodies swaying. 

“You’re stupid, but you're not alone,” Seungkwan tells him quietly, rubbing his back. Jeonghan hadn’t realised how sorely he needed physical affection. It’s been a week since anyone touched him for longer than a moment, and it collapses something inside him.

“It really sucks, Seungkwannie,” he mumbles into Seungkwan’s sweater.

“I know. Sorry for snapping.”

“I deserved it,” Jeonghan pouts.

“You did.” Seungkwan pulls back. “Both of you do. I’m honestly surprised that Myungho agreed to this. He’s usually so… sensible.”

“Yeah well. He’s a lot of things, apparently.”

“God,” Seungkwan sighs. “I know he’s my friend and I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you, but say the word and he’s locked in a trunk and driven out to the desert where we leave him and speed off to start a new life.” 

“Will you dye my hair in a motel bathroom?” Jeonghan sniffs.

Seungkwan nods. “The worst colour imaginable.”

Out of everything, that’s what gets Jeonghan to cry. 

🌻

The next day, he wakes up feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Maybe trying to handle all of your bullshit on your own is not the only option. Who would’ve thought? He feels better, bouncy even, as he collects a juice box out of the cupboard to tide him over until brunch with Joshua. For a brief, ridiculous second, he forgets that he isn’t alone in the apartment.

“You told Seungkwan?”

Minghao is sitting with his legs crossed on his yoga mat and his hair pushed back with a silly yellow headband. Jeonghan wants to tease him about it, but something in the set of his mouth says it would not be welcome.

“He found out,” Jeonghan clarifies, keeping the couch between them like a shield. 

Minghao sighs through his nose. “I thought we were keeping this low-key.”

“We are. What, do you not trust Seungkwan?”

“I do—”

“You told Mingyu. How is that any different?”

Minghao’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “How do you know that? Did he talk to you? I told him not to.”

Jeonghan notes the reaction with sharp interest. He takes the plastic off his straw and pierces the juice box, purposefully slow. “He didn’t tell me anything. I just know you.” He doesn’t say, _Mingyu is the person you talk to the most_ , because he already said it two weeks ago, voice raised, heart pounding. It stings to know that he’s always been second place, even before he forfeited any claim to the prize. 

Minghao is quiet, but Jeonghan doesn’t want to leave before he gets a response. He wants to savour the illusion of a conversation. The apartment has been so quiet. 

“I guess… everyone is going to find out eventually,” Minghao finally says.

Jeonghan snorts. “Our friend group is historically terrible at keeping out of each others’ business.” He tries not to think about the losses he might face once everything moves out into the open. He’s found some real friends in the people Minghao introduced him to and he’s not sure which of them, if any, will keep him around now that he’s no longer attached to Minghao. 

He takes a stressed sip of juice and looks up to find Minghao watching him. “What?”

“There’s a lot of sugar in those,” is all Minghao says.

“Keeps me sweet,” Jeonghan says without thinking. Minghao’s mouth drops open and his eyes drop to Jeonghan’s mouth, undeniably. It makes Jeonghan’s breath hitch; a road bump; a sheet of lightning. He wonders if Minghao is remembering the same thing—when he’d tug Jeonghan into a kiss, lick the syrup off his bottom lip and call him the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. When he’d punctuate the words with his hands, his body. _Sweet everywhere_ , he’d say, fucking Jeonghan into the couch, fingers building bruises into his thighs, kissing anywhere he could reach. 

The same couch that now stands between them like a wall.

“I have to get dressed,” Jeonghan says. Minghao doesn’t ask where he’s going and he’s embarrassed by how desperately he wishes Minghao would care.

🌻

That night, he gets himself off with his face in the pillows. They don’t smell like Minghao anymore, except they do, because the entire apartment smells like him. Ocean-bright candles and geranium body wash, splinters of wood and smoke and tea leaves scattered along the air with the steam drifting from the ever-present pot. Jeonghan misses him so keenly it makes him sob when he comes, messy in his fist. He’s never been emotional about sex, but Minghao made such an impression. Jeonghan knew he would—knew that being with this man would cause something to shift. 

In the end, it wasn’t so much about change as it was about revelation: Minghao pulled parts of Jeonghan out into the light, rubbed at his edges and painted them bright blue and called him summer, even when he felt cold. Even when he felt two feet tall, Minghao looked up to him. 

How things change. How things stay the same.

🌻

“I’m so excited for tonight!” Soonyoung yells over the video call. “Twenty-five. Fuck. That’s me! What are you going to wear, hyung? Show me.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Jeonghan laughs, massaging cream into his cheeks. 

“It’s in two hours!” Soonyoung warbles.

Jeonghan gets close to his phone where it rests on the vanity. “Are you drunk already, Soonyoung-ah?”

Soonyoung pinches the air, a centimetre between his thumb and forefinger. There’s a distant yell of “He’s had three vodka oranges” from Wonwoo, and Soonyoung shushes him so violently that Jeonghan gets vertigo from watching the screen.

“Is Myungho there?” Soonyoung asks, all cautious and sweet. Jeonghan updated him and Wonwoo last week because he didn’t feel like fielding awkward questions at the party tonight. There’s been enough of that at work already— _We broke up actually, yeah, almost a month, no it’s okay, you didn’t know_ —and the thought of bringing down the mood on Soonyoung’s birthday made Jeonghan’s skin crawl. They’ve only been friends since Minghao introduced them a year and a half ago, but Soonyoung was adamant that the breakup wouldn’t come between them. 

“I love you, hyung,” he had said, so fiercely that Jeonghan almost broke down for the second time that week. Even Wonwoo had said nice things. Granted, they were all deep into their drinks, but the sentiment was still very much appreciated. 

“You don’t think I’m stealing you from Myungho?” Jeonghan had asked, honest in his inebriation. 

Soonyoung had gone very quiet, and very serious. “You can pry that tall elven boy from my cold, dead hands,” he said. “I’m allowed to be friends with both of you, and I will. You two will be friends again one day, anyway.”

“No, no, no. I don’t think so,” Jeonghan said, waving him off.

Soonyoung grabbed his flailing hand and clutched it tight enough to hurt. “You will,” he said, and he sounded so convinced that Jeonghan let himself believe it until the soju wore off and he woke up the next morning to an apartment divided, and the tight feeling lingering in his chest. 

Minghao acknowledged him when they passed each other in the kitchen, which was an improvement, but he didn’t stick around to talk. He doesn’t do that anymore. Friends seems so far off that it feels impossible. 

“Hyung?” Soonyoung prompts. 

Jeonghan blinks back to himself. “Yes. He’s upstairs.” 

Soonyoung hums. “Thanks for still coming. I know it must be… weird.”

Jeonghan gets equally close to the camera. “For you, Kwon Soonyoung, I’d do anything.”

Soonyoung’s responding smile—all bunched up cheeks and imperfect teeth—is worth it. Whatever tonight brings, Jeonghan will get through it. He can do this.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!!


End file.
